


Surrounded

by afteriwake



Category: Doctor Who, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Amy, BAMF John, BAMF Mary, BAMF River, BAMF Rory, BAMF Sherlock, Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, F/M, Gen, POV Amy Pond, Smart Amy, Smart John, Smart Mary, Smart Rory, Trapped
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-02
Updated: 2016-02-02
Packaged: 2018-05-17 21:21:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5885632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The day that Sherlock Holmes returns from the dead he comes back bearing a message for two of John's new friends, Rory & Amelia Williams: old enemies are coming after you. This message leads to worlds colliding as Amy, Rory, Sherlock, John, Mary and the later addition of River Song have to fend off Weeping Angels from trying to pick them off while they're trapped in Baker Street.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Surrounded

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Chitarra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chitarra/gifts), [melody1987](https://archiveofourown.org/users/melody1987/gifts).



> So I have literally had a prompt from **deandrivingtheimpala** in my Tumblr ask for years (" _How about a weeping angel shows up in 221B and Amy has to try and explain as logically as possible weeping angels to Sherlock_ ") and I have _just_ now gotten around to answering it. I feel so so horrible. But I recently decided to do some spring cleaning of my non-Sherlolly fic prompts and my general Wholock prompt was claimed by both **Chitarra** and **melody1987** so I decided to do that first. It's multichapter so hopefully I will finish it quickly!

She had to admit, she hadn’t expected her life to take _quite_ this turn.

She had been bored, once the Doctor had left her and Rory. And yeah, they’d had problems. Ones that had seemed fairly insurmountable sometimes. Most days. And she needed something to get her mind off of it. Modeling was a good job, paid well, but really there wasn’t much to do other than sit there or stand there and look pretty. There was nothing behind it. And so between her poses she would spend time browsing the internet and that was how she stumbled onto the blog of John H. Watson.

She’d heard about the world’s only consulting detective before. Not just with the ugly headlines splashed across the papers when he’d jumped off the roof of the hospital, but from the Doctor himself. Oh, her Doctor was a fan, all right. A _big_ fan. A rather annoying one, at that. And she knew all sorts of little tidbits about this Sherlock Holmes bloke that she probably shouldn’t.

Starting with the fact that he wasn’t _really_ dead.

The more she read off the blog the more she thought he was probably a pompous arse, but John Watson seemed to be decent. Not in the “I’d rather be with him than my husband” sense but “I’d like to share a pint and pick his brain” sense. So she decided to do just that. She tracked him down at the clinic he worked at, introduced herself (finding she really hadn’t needed to, he knew very well who she was), struck up a conversation and then offered to buy him a pint.

It was hard for him to talk about Sherlock at first. He’d wanted to bury it all, it seemed. So she didn’t press. Asked about other things. That made the conversation easier. Better. Soon enough, they were laughing and having a good time like the best of mates. It was a nice night, and they agreed to do it again later. The next time, things got a bit more personal. She opened up about the problems she was having with Rory, he told her about some of the things he was dealing with with Sherlock’s passing. She was careful not to let the secret slip, but she listened, tried to give him hope. It seemed to do him a world of good, and his advice to her did some good for her, too.

Soon enough, Rory was joining them on these trips to the pub, and then John’s girlfriend Mary would come with them. Oh, she liked Mary. Liked her quite a bit. She had some spunk in her in a way Amy appreciated. The four of them got along well and things were going along grandly. John was happy, much happier than he had been when she’d met him. And her and Rory…they’d nearly patched things up between them. Life was good. Almost perfect, even.

So of _course_ that was when Sherlock had to come back from the dead.

John had it all planned, his proposal to Mary. Romantic dinner for two at Clos Maggiore. Candlelight, nice wine, gorgeous ring. Amy had even helped pick it out. She’d expected a call that evening from either John or Mary with all the details. Maybe even the next morning. What she _hadn’t_ expected was a phone call rousing her out of her sleep saying she needed to come over to 221B Baker Street because _someone_ had mucked up the whole evening. She didn’t even have to guess at who it had been; the address had been enough. So she and Rory had gotten dressed, gotten in the car and made the midnight drive to John’s old home to see a disheveled John and a beaten up Sherlock Holmes in the sitting room with an amused Mary mothering over both of them.

Sherlock looked the new arrivals up and down, nodding just slightly. “Good. You called the Ponds,” he murmured when he turned to John.

Amy gaped at that. There was only one person in the universe who called her and Rory that. Everyone else referred to them as Mr. & Mrs. Williams. She moved a bit closer to him. “You know him, don’t you?” she asked quietly.

He nodded slowly. “Yes, I do,” he replied.

“Know who?” John asked, taking the baggie of ice Mary gave him for his knuckles. “I brought them here because you said you wanted them here and I want to know how you know them.”

“Wait. You wanted us here?” Rory asked, running a hand over his face. 

“There’s a message I need to deliver. I got it before I was sent to Serbia. I knew I would be rescued by my brother, I knew John would be proposing tonight, and I knew about your friendship. There’s some danger in the works. The person who gave it to me doesn’t know what, but there’s a danger.”

“I’m not awake enough for this,” Rory said, running a hand over his face. “Couldn’t they have given you more details?”

“I don’t think they knew any more details,” Sherlock said with a shrug. “It’s not the Daleks, though. Not Cybermen. But they said it was something familiar.”

“Wonderful,” Amy said with a sigh, sinking down on the sofa. 

John looked at the three of them. “I’d love to know what’s going on, if someone could clue me in.”

“The Doctor,” Mary said. Sherlock, Amy and Rory looked over at her, seeing she had gone to her mobile, and after a moment she looked up at them with a grin. “Oh, come on. The general populace does a grand job of pretending half the alien attacks never happened but not _everyone_ does. Not everyone _can_.”

“With your background I don’t suppose you could,” Sherlock said, tilting his head slightly.

“Didn’t have the luxury,” Mary said with a grin.

“What background?” John asked. “You’re a nurse.”

Mary looked over at him and then reached for his hand, patting it gently. “I think there are some things you should know about me, love. _Before_ you give me the ring you were planning on giving me.”

He gave her a look, and then looked at the others before tilting his head back. “What in God’s name did I do to deserve my evening taking a turn like this?” he asked with a sigh.

“I don’t think there’s any higher power at fault here,” Sherlock said. “But back to the matter at hand. An old foe is coming after the two of you, Rory and Amelia, so you should be prepared.”

“It would help if we knew _which_ foe,” Amy said. “There’s so many, and only being able to cross two off the list really doesn’t help much.” The lights began to flicker in the flat and she frowned. “Oh, bloody hell.”

“What?” John asked, looking at her.

She looked up at Rory. “I think I know which foe it might be,” she said slowly. 

“Which one?” her husband asked.

“Weeping Angels,” she said.

Rory’s eyes widened. “Not good.”

“Bit not good, yeah.” She looked around. “All right. If it’s a Weeping Angel, whatever you do, don’t blink. Blink and it gets you. Someone have an eye on it at all times. Don’t let it get to you. It moves when you aren’t looking. They’re fast, they’re lethal, and they can inhabit your mind if you look at it long enough.”

“But we can’t look away, either,” Mary pointed out.

“We’ll figure something out,” Amy said. “Best bet is to get out of the flat before they trap us here. Is anyone else here?”

“Mrs. Hudson is out,” Sherlock said. “I came by earlier to tell her I was alive and the shock was rather great. She went off with friends.”

“Good. One less person to worry about,” Rory said. The lights kept flickering and he reached over for Amy’s hand. “Are you going to be all right?” he asked her quietly.

She grasped it tightly. “I’d feel better if the Doctor was here,” she said.

“I would too,” he replied. “But we’ll have to make do.”

“I know,” she said. She turned to the others. “Let’s try and get out of here. All right?” she got nods from the others and then they made their way to the door of the sitting room. But they hadn’t made it to the stairs when the lights flickered off for a longer period of time and then back on again and Amy stilled, hearing slight scratching sounds at the doors and windows. She knew, without having to go to the door, that they were trapped. She looked behind her and saw that the others could sense it too. “You all realize it, don’t you?”

“We’re surrounded,” Sherlock said.

“Damn,” Rory said.

“So what do we do?” John asked.

Amy thought for a moment. For some reason, the Angels hadn’t tried to come in. That was…odd. From what the Doctor had told her, they could easily have done that. Quite easily, actually. “We wait them out, for now, while we figure out a way to contact the Doctor or someone else who can help,” she said. She had a number on her mobile to reach the Doctor, or in a worst case scenario her daughter. Perhaps, if she was lucky, she could get one of them to help before it _became_ a worst case scenario.

She hoped.


End file.
